Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It took a few confused months of the humans trying to understand how Ax ate without a mouth, and Ax wondering why they put things in their talking orifice, for them to finally have a straight conversation.
It still took about 5 minutes for everyone to move on from their initial confusion.
"What do you mean you eat through your feet?!"

After that, they immediately moved on to insisting that Ax needed to see for himself what eating was like.
**
"I promise it's not as scary as it seems," Cassie reassured him. Ax just shook his (human-morph) head.
"No, no, it's putting-ting foreign things into m-my body. Solid ob-obj-jects are not supposed to go inside a person! I just can’t mak-k-ke myself doooo it.”
“Well you’re morphed already, just get it over with,” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Even babies…”
Jake gave her a light smack on the arm. “It’s ok,” he said, turning to Ax, “we’re just trying to show you. You can take a lick if it makes you more comfortable.”
“A what?”
“Like this,” Tobias said, holding up a lollypop. Ax’s eyes widened in horror at the sight of a raw muscle coming out of his best friend’s face!
“That’s how-ow you…” he squeaked. He backed up, hunching his shoulders. He was no longer sure that his new friends weren’t just trying to play a joke on him and scare him, Elimist knows they had an odd sense of humour…
“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Cassie reached over to pat his shoulder. Ax flinched slightly before letting her touch him. “How about water? You drink water too, it’ll be perfectly normal.”
“Well… ok…” Ax took the glass she held out to him and hesitantly brought it to his lips. He let his mouth open just enough to let it slosh over his tongue and slide down his throat.
“KaaHH!” he coughed, almost choking.
“Don’t breathe while you swallow,” Cassie suggested belatedly.
“That is ex-EX-tremely unpleas-s-sant.” Ax gave her back the glass. “How do you do that-t every day?”
“We don’t usually choke on our food,” Marco deadpanned.
“Try again.” Cassie smiled, holding out the glass.
Ax eyed it warily. “Do your infants-ants have to prac-ct-tice doing the very action you need to p-perform daily in order-rrr to survive?”
“Eh, you choke once, you learn,” Rachel said with a shrug.
**
It was after they switched out the water for juice that Ax came to understand the appeal of flavours.
“So this is sweet,” he marveled, taking another sip. “It is like-ike smelling fl-flowers, only-ly ST-stronger.”
“There you go,” Tobias said approvingly. “And if you like that, wait until I show you cinnamon rolls.”
“Cool, well now that we know food won’t kill our resident alien friend, maybe we can move on to talking about more important matters?” Marco said.
“Like cake?” Cassie asked innocently.
“Personally I’d go for brownies,” Jake said with a straight face.
“Come on, guys,” said Rachel, “Obviously he means Chinese noodles.”
Marco rolled his eyes. “Children, all of you.”

Chapter Text

"What are you doing?!" Elfangor rushed over and grabbed the lighter out of Loren's hands. Startled, she let him take it and watched as he tried desperately to put out the gas light on the stove.

As soon as she figured out the misunderstanding she started laughing uncontrollably.

"What?!" Elfangor asked, still shook.

"Yo-you...hahahaha..." she was grabbing her sides desperately. "Did you think I was setting fire to the house?"

"Yes..?"

She giggled helplessly, waving her hand until she could speak coherently again. Elfangor was obviously worried about her sanity the whole time, which only made her want to laugh more.

"Is this a human thing?" he ended up asking, desperate to understand. "Do you just spontaneously start breathing erratically? Are you sick?"

"Ok," she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. They could laugh about this later. "I'm fine..."

"Then why were you trying to set fire to..." he gestured wildly at the stove, because he didn't know the word for it yet. She started laughing again.

"This," she finally managed to say, "this is why I love you."

"I make you breathless?!" he asked, confused.

She giggled more. "Oh, you definitely take my breath away." she reached up to kiss him, finally calm enough to not break down again.

He stared at her with a confused smile. "This is nice, but I'm still not convinced you're fully sane yet."

She grinned at him. "I'm fine, for real. I keep forgetting you didn't start your life as a human." She reached over to the stove and twisted the knob to turn off the gas. The flame went out. "See? It's supposed to do that."

Worry had turned to curiosity. "What is it meant for?"

"Cooking. I was going to make us pancakes."

He tilted his head. "Cooking is for food, right? You need fire for that?"

"For a lot of recipes, yeah."

"Recipes?"

"I'll show you," she said. She held his hand and pulled him over to the counter of their little rented cabin, where she'd found a smock with a cartoon raccoon on it. She put it on over his head while he gazed at her with a bemused smile. 

"This," she said with all the seriousness of a small child explaining how to make a mud pie, "is to protect your clothes from flour sprinkles, and all other kinds of mess."

"You have clothing to protect your other clothing?" he asked, starting to remember why humanity was seen as a simple species. They could be a little backwards sometimes.

Loren pursed her lips, considering what he'd just said. "You have a point, but this here," she patted his chest, "Now has an adorable cartoon animal on it, so you'll be keeping it on for my amusement."

He gave her the kind of patronising smile usually used on small children, and she allowed it, figuring she deserved that this morning.

"Alright," she said, clapping her hands together, "Pancakes are a classic breakfast food. Simple, straight-forward, but with just enough of a challenge that you feel accomplished when you make them perfectly. We'll use a bowl," she gestured to the large mixing bowl she'd found earlier, "and we'll mix a bunch of ingredients together, and then we'll use the stove to cook them. Any questions before we begin?"

"As you say, it's straightforward."

"Perfect. Now then, you'll help me measure."

**

About 20 minutes later the kitchen looked like a white bomb had gone off (because Elfangor didn't realise that flour was a very volatile powder), batter was splotched a little bit everywhere, two eggs had fallen to the floor, and they had burned the first two pancakes because they had given in to the mess and started a small food fight.

For the very last pancake, Loren showed him how to flip them in the pan. A chunk of half-cooked batter was left hanging off the side of the fridge.

Elfangor was very impressed. "You mean to tell me," he said as he set the stack on the table, "that all humans know this much chemistry?"

"Well, some more than other," Loren waggled her fingers in what had become a universal gesture of so-so, "But most adults know how to do something like this, yeah."

He shook his head. "I underestimated your species again," he said. 

she grinned. "I want to hear you say that after you have a taste."

He watched her carefully as she poured syrup, imitating her to the last drop. She'd already explained to him, indirectly, that exact measurements were necessary in food preparation. She noticed him watching and made a big production of adding one (1) cherry to the exact middle of her plate. He did the same, and she felt he would have brought out a protractor if he'd had one. 

"Then you take your fork," she said, raising hers, "and you cut off a piece that can fit in your mouth, and eat like normal."

He took a bite and his eyes almost rolled back into his head. "This is amazing," he murmured. "Does all home-made food taste this good?" she nodded, happy. He took another three bites before adding, "We definitely underestimated your species."

She grinned at him.

Chapter Text

<I don't like this, Alloran.>

<You never like anything,> the war-weary veteran muttered to his slaver. <What is it this time?> He had to ask, because he knew he was going to hear about it anyway. This way at least he got some semblance of conversation before he got shoved back in a dark corner of his mind.

<It's the Human Controllers,> Esplin said. <Just today, two of them have told me to cheer up. Does this face seem depressed?> He tilted his eye stalks to look at himself.

Alloran gave a mental sigh of indifference. <Why should you care, you're their leader. Maybe they just don't want you to kill anyone out of anger today.>

<...The odd part is how they walk away with a smile on their face afterwards...>

**

"I'm telling you it's fine, he still doesn't seem to understand it."

"Someone is bound to let it slip eventually. Or maybe his translator will catch up to it."

"You know how fast those things work, it would have caught it by now if it was going to," his friend said dismissively. "Just yesterday Cargak 265 called him a four-eyes to his face and he never reacted."

Odriss 890 laughed. "Honestly, Human hosts are the best. I think the Visser is even starting to be flattered that we worry so much about him 'being blue'."

Chapter Text

"The Visser is starting to get suspicious," said Daniela/Aflin. She glanced around the park quickly before settling back on the bench. "I think he knows that there's symbiote sympathisers among us." she lowered her voice. "I keep getting strange looks when I try to explain what I'll be doing over the weekend..."

"And what exactly do you do over the weekend?" Illim asked through Mr. Tidwell's voice. He crossed his leg over his knee casually and watched the kids playing soccer a few yards away.

"You know..." Aflin muttered, "Going to meetings with the Peace Movement, spending time with Daniela's family. Instead of doing the stuff I'm supposed to be doing for the war." She slid down in her seat. "You know, we keep thinking that if the Yeerks had come in peace, Humanity would have been cool to offer up a few volunteers. It would have taken a few years of adapting to each other before we could ever get a lot of hosts, but still," she said, looking up at Tidwell/Illim, "It would have been better than having to sneak around all the time."

He nodded, a wry smile on his lips. 

"I just wish we had something that sounded, I don't know, legit," said Daniela. "Something that looked like we were recruiting, or like we were gathering information," Aflin added, “instead of meetings between a bunch of misfit Yeerks and our suspiciously cooperative hosts.”

They sat in silence for a while longer. A kid scored a goal and ran around the field screaming with his teammates. Their brightly-coloured team shirts got covered in fresh grass stains.

"It's just not fair," Daniela sighed. "We have so much to offer you guys, but we're all too busy fighting each other to just work something out."

But Illim had stopped listening. A little off to the side, a woman had set up an easel in front of a flower bed and was happily mixing up paints for her afternoon. A memory of Mr. Tidwell's late wife flashed through their mind.

"...We may have an idea..." they mused.

**

It was, fundamentally, a simple idea. A paint night was a very Human pass-time, so they wouldn't arouse suspicion from potential new recruits; and because it looked like they were recruiting, and it was something that Yeerks would be especially eager to participate in, even the Visser’s worst sycophants couldn't take issue with it.

The Yeerk Peace Movement could pretend to be using it to recruit new Controllers, when in fact they were going to use it to spread their ideology: Being a symbiote was better than being a parasite.

Their first meeting would have five members of the YPM, and one new Controller who seemed to be struggling with her host.

"This will be great," Illim assured Fiorit/Sam, handing her a glass of wine, "Sometimes it helps to relax your host by having them do something neutral."

"And an inhibitor reducer doesn't hurt either," said Efril/Joe from the couch. He raised his beer in a salute.

"Doesn't that, uh, also hurt our control over them?" Fiorit asked. She sniffed the glass delicately.

"Nope." Joe took a swig. "Your host might have trouble grasping their faculties, but we’ll still have full access." This was actually a bit of a lie; alcohol eventually dulled external perception enough that a Yeerk would end up just as inhibited as their host. They had found, however, that it took significantly more than a little wine to reach a point where a Yeerk would notice, as Efril and his host's best friend had been more than willing to test.

"Alright," Fiorit took a sip through pursed lips. "My host was never very artistic, but like most Humans, I suppose, she at least knows how to hold a paint brush. Let's begin."

Daniela and Amy had set up six canvases and a bunch of paint tubes around Mr. Tidwell's kitchen table. At the edge they propped up a picture of a sunset. 

"This is what we'll be painting today," Daniela started as Zomni, who's host was a middle-aged mom with little free time, immediately jumped on the paints.

"A little eager, are we?" Fiorit said dryly, though she was also staring at the glob of blue that was quickly being mixed with red. Illim watched as the tiny frown Fiorit had had since they’d met smoothed out.

She seemed a little dazed. "That's," she said just as Illim put a brush in her hand and started his own painting. 

She looked around at the others at the table. They all seemed focused on their own work, so she ducked her head down and started to mix for the colours she needed.

Giffi and her host, Amy, leaned over. "If you add a small bit of blue, it'll have a more peachy colour," they said. 

"Look at you, living in an actual artist's body," Aflin/Daniela grumbled. "Meanwhile I already know I'm going to have a mess on my hands..." As if to prove her point, she reached over for a brush and got paint all over her sleeve. 

Amy giggled. "Maybe you should save yourself the pretense and just accept that you are the canvas."

"You know that reminds me of something I learned recently," Efril said. "Humans have a subculture that decorate their skin with permanent images called tattoos."

"Is it really a subculture if, like, everybody has thought about getting a tattoo at least once?" Daniela asked as she tried to wipe away the paint. It smeared everywhere instead. "Tch."

"My host's son is talking about getting one," Zomni said, not raising her head. She paused to focus on making a straight line. "...I could stop him, because that would be what my host would normally do, but I'm very curious to see how it would turn out. He drew the design himself, and it's very good."

Fiorit paused, feeling an impulse to join in the discussion. Her host, Sam, was perking up in a way that made her nervous. "What is..." She hesitated. "What is it a design of?"

Zomni glanced up to smile at her. "A waterfall drawn using words from a song he likes," she said. "I think it's very clever."

Fiorit nodded vaguely. Sam thought it was clever too, and her impulse to say as much pushed her consciousness a little closer to the surface. Fiorit instinctively squashed it down, but winced at Sam's cry of anguish and rebellion.

"Y'allright?" Joe asked.

Fiorit nodded and went back to painting.

Sam pushed harder.

"Urg," Fiorit vocalised. "How do they manage to be so strong?" She grabbed her head and tried to shut her out, but Sam knew she had an audience and started to really scream at her.

"Easy there," Illim soothed. "It gets easier with practice."

"And by giving your host something for being good most of the day,” Daniela added, her eyes flashing with restrained intensity. “Humans like rewards for good behaviour.”

“What kind of reward?” Fiorit asked.

“Give her something that she wants,” Daniela said. She didn’t want to push the idea too fast; she went back to her painting before she accidentally said too much.

Fiorit was too distracted to notice how tense everyone had gotten.

What did Sam want, she thought. Then she felt ridiculous for asking herself when she could just ask Sam. Then she felt ridiculous for asking a host. They were no better than animals.

But the screams had only gotten worse when she was denied access to conversation. And, weirdly enough, denied access to paints.

<Do you,> Fiorit started to ask. She didn’t even need to finish her thought before Sam leapt up and grabbed control of her right hand. Her hand smacked down on the table roughly.

Everyone kept their head down. Some of them held their breaths, feeling like they were watching a wild animal being tamed. Whether that meant the Yeerk or the Human, they were about to find out.

Fiorit allowed Sam to take over just their right hand. And then their eyes.

And after a few moments, Sam took over their throat and started to hum contentedly while she worked.

There was a slight whoosh as everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

**

“Be honest,” Fiorit said two weeks later as she sat with Daniela and Illim on a park bench. “You knew all along that it would be easier if we worked with our hosts instead of against them.”

Illim shrugged. “It’s a revolutionary concept. Some people aren’t ready for it.”

“We could die for this.”

“Eh,” Daniela waved her hand. “Worth it – the trick,” Aflin added, “is discretion.”

Fiorit gave her a weird look. “Your host is approximately the opposite of discretion.”

“I know,” Aflin said with a smile, “but I’m not. We’ve created a system where either of us can take over when our particular skills are needed.” He tilted her head conspiratorially. “Daniela talks to people to make allies; I talk to people to gather and hide secrets.”

Sam nodded. “Like how Fiorit lets me talk now that she knows she can hide away from a social situation,” she said wryly.

Aflin and Illim laughed. “Ah, Humans and their innumerable social customs…”

Chapter Text

There was a Human who once said something very poignant, and relevant to my story... "You need to stay safe every time, but the wolf, the wolf only needs enough luck to find you once."

My name is Elimist. And my job is to postpone the heat-death of the universe.

I say postpone because I don't know if even I have the power to prevent it altogether. Crayak has been fighting me for thousands of years now... I think even millions. Sometimes I remember that I used to be just a kid playing video games, and it makes me feel like an old man who's been alive for too long.

I’m not getting tired yet, but I feel that it’s only a matter of time.

Having someone like you has been a thought in my head for a while now. Crayak has a lackey, why shouldn't I have a.. friend? No, not quiete yet... An apprentice. That's what you call it in your language. Yes, that can work.

There are a few things you should know; there are two incredibly powerful beings in the universe, who jump around time and fight each other for the life and death of all the sentient creatures in existence. But we treat it very much like a game. Crayak and I have a set of rules that we've agreed to follow for the rest of eternity; and as underhanded as he is, he's always stuck by them faithfully. I still don't know if it's because he knows we're evenly matched, or if it's proof that he believes in his cause.

Although you have to wonder, if he believes he's right to kill every living thing in the universe, what must be going through his head...

There's a lot of things you're going to have to figure out yourself, eventually. I've lived practically forever, and there are still so, so many things even I don’t know.

With any luck you’ll be able to help me.

Yes, there's a lot you'll have to come to understand. I suppose I should feel guilty for putting this on you, but the universe deserves a back-up plan. I couldn’t stand it if we’d gone through all that pain, all that effort, just to die quietly. It would be a real death this time, you see. The black void between stars would be the only thing left in existence if Crayak had his way. I wouldn’t even be able to slip back in time and revive anyone, not that I can do that even now.

That would be against the rules.

For my own sanity, I have to believe that I'm in the right. That there's a reason we all exist. There’s so much more than the black emptiness out there, and I have to believe it exists for something. Even existence for its own sake.

Like you Humans. You have squeezed every drop of living out of your time on this little planet.

No, really. Have you seen how you can spend hours focused on one small thing, a flower, a story, a game, a friend... Like when you play a song on repeat, knowing full well that you'll get sick of it. But you do it anyway because you want to keep living in that feeling just a little longer.

Your kind has a respectable thirst for existence.

That's why I need you. I've spent millennia on your ancestry, pushing and pulling just ever so slightly... Waiting for you.

You, who'll be strong enough to survive the living planet. Just like I did.

I think you'll thank me when it's over.

(And hopefully this won't backfire and push another lackey into Crayak's arms...)

Chapter Text

When Aflin had first met Daniela, it was in the aftermath of a Sharing meeting, right after her head had been plunged under the watery sludge of his home. She'd struggled more out of instinct than anything before going quiet.

Normally Aflin would have been thrilled. Not only was he being re-assigned because his last host was so unruly, he'd also heard every horror story from the others in the pool: Human hosts who had tried to claw them out of their own ears, constant complaints and wails of anguish echoing in their heads, a million different threats...

At first, it was very nice to have this tranquility. Certainly Daniela was talkative, but she mostly only talked to herself. She retreated to the back of her mind and mentally paced, back and forth, over inconsequential little anxieties. Would Aflin bother to feed her fish? Would Aflin make her embarass herself at work? Would she get some rare kind of alien cancer from having him in her head? Maybe he was full of space radiation.

It was almost a soothing background noise to Aflin, because it reminded him of what he had to do to maintain a normal appearance as her Controller.

And, if he was being honest, some of her ideas were genuinely funny.

Then one day he had to stay at a Sharing meeting for too long and forgot to feed her fish. She'd wailed at him all day, what if they were starving, what if she got home and they weren't ok anymore, what if Aflin was doing this on purpose to spite her...

He'd given in and rushed back. Of course, they were perfectly fine. In fact, he looked through her memories and found that they would have been fine for another day or more if he'd left them.

That was the first time he'd addressed her directly. "Would you calm down?! I don't understand why you assume this is all a personal attack on you. WHY would I care about killing some colourful fish?" He started pacing in her living room. He'd thought it was obvious that he would never hurt anything so defenseless. And to spite her? What was that about?

"You don't like me," she said. "Of course you don't like me. And of course you want me to suffer. It makes it easier for you to control me, doesn't it?"

"Why would..." But then Aflin paused. She'd made some sort of sense.

She wasn't... entirely... accurate, because he had no reason to dislike her. He definitely didn't hate her either, as her mental tone had implied.

He thought about it and realised that he actually... did kind of like knowing her.

But the control part, yes, she had a point there.

"It's easier to control a host that doesn't fight back," he thought out loud. "And the easiest way to stop it from fighting back is to make it afraid of me."

"Is it easier?" she asked. "Or does it just make you feel powerful, to think of us as stupid 'its'?"

Aflin didn't know what to say to that.

**

He was more careful to feed the fish after that. He even took the time to address most of her anxieties as they came up (though he had no idea what to do about the cancer worries).

"Doctor," she said simply.

"They'd do a scan and find me, so no," he answered.

"You just want me to die," she sighed as dramatically as she could from the tiny corner in her head. Then she started to worry about all the ways that she could die in the middle of this war.

"Why do you do that?" Aflin asked.

"Hmm?"

"You worry about everything. My last host didn't do that."

"Well, contrary to what you might have been led to believe," she said with a huff, "Not all Humans are the same."

"No, but... You seem... especially stressed, compared to other hosts?" Aflin showed her memories of the cages around the Pool. "You're worried but you don't do... that." He pointed to the people who were crying or shouting. "You just sort of... twitch."

 Daniela shrugged. "I guess I'm a bit more anxious than most people," she said. "Oddly enough, I've gotten calmer since I met you."

 "How does that work?"

"Emmm..." she poked at a few thoughts before answering. "You're always making sure that the things I would worry about get done. And for some things, where I would hesitate and get worked up over trying to do it right, you just do it. And it turns out fine. You're kind of like an emotional support dog."

"I'm not a dog," he grumbled.

"No, dogs are friendlier," she retorted. "And they wouldn't keep me from talking to my friends."

"Well that's... besides the point anyway!" Aflin insisted. "You're supposed to be the support in this. I'm the master of this body."

He saw her thoughts struggle between making a dirty joke and fighting back for control. When she saw that he'd seen both, she settled for "You haven't needed to fight me for control yet. What would happen if I tried to push you away?"

"You wouldn't succeed."

"You can't know that for sure. What if I did succeed?"

He didn't need to answer. They'd both seen rebelious hosts get dragged away, never to be seen again.

But his silence meant something else.

"You don't want me to get killed, do you."

"No."

"Why?"

"...You're a good host to have. Easy to control."

"Try again," she pushed.

"There's no better reason for a Yeerk to choose one host over another..."

Her wordless anticipation kept pushing him.

"...We're not friends," he tried to insist.

"Not yet, anyway."

"It's unnatural to befriend a host."

"You know, there was a module in science class that I remember..." she said, seeming to change the topic. "Do you know what a symbiote is?"

"Obviously," he said, glancing over her memory of it. Then he looked closer. "... That's just weird."

"It's pretty normal on our planet."

"You're trying to make me give you more freedom," he said. "I can't do that."

"Why?"

"You're asking difficult questions..."

"It should be simple, all Yeerks do it," she said. "Tell me why."

"We need to win the war. You could warn others." He felt confident. That was a perfectly good reason.

"What if I promised not to tell anybody?"

"You could lie."

"You'd be in my head anyway. You could stop me."

"...This feels like a trick."

"Alright, so it's a bit of a trick because I'd get something out of it," she said. "But hear me out. You hate having to work my job, right?"

Aflin had never been subtle about his general distate for the nail salon she worked at. He had to gossip all day to keep up the pretense that he was still her. "To use your friend's words, God, yes," he said.

Aflin felt her brain produce endorphins, for the first time since they met, at his comment.

"So why don't we do this? I get control for the parts you don't like, you get control for the stuff I don't like, and we work together to maybe... make this war go a little smoother?"

"I don't think this would..."

"Could we at least try though?"

Aflin thought about the tropical fish they both liked to watch. About how nice it was to have her create a clear checklist of all the things he needed to do every day. He thought about his last host and their unstoppable yelling and complaining. Daniela was certainly much nicer to share a headspace with.

"I'll try it," he said. Daniela whooped. "But! I'm still in control. One slip-up and I'm shutting you away forever."

He ignored her undercurrent of smugness. They both knew he didn't really mean it, not anymore.

Chapter Text

Daniela and Aflin had decided to spend the day shopping for Aflin-type clothes. A concept that was both confusing and intriguing.

<So, explain this to me again. I get the idea of wearing bright colours and shiny things as decoration, because I do like looking at them. But how is it “self-expresion”? Everyone around here seems to wear jeans and t-shirts on a regular basis, it’s not like a specific type of jean is going to identify me among others,> Aflin said.

An interesting thing about Yeerks was how they could see things from the slightly distorted perspectives of their hosts. It was like having information pop up in your peripherals, lists of details that are relevant to a particular setting. It was also like having a filter, where if the host was focused on a particular detail then the Yeerk would also see it very clearly, even if they never would have focused on it otherwise. All this to say; since Daniela knew the difference between textures of jeans, Aflin did too. Since Daniela knew how different shades looked on her (blue-grey was not her colour, but going a shade darker and adding pale speckles made a big difference and became flattering), Aflin also knew this. Aflin could very clearly determine differences between boot-cut and low-rise and mom-jeans and on and on… But he didn’t care.

He tried. It was usually easy to be interested in something when you knew a lot about it, but every time they stepped away from the racks of slightly-different pants, they all just blended together and looked the same.

<We could try something else,> Daniela said for the third time since they walked into the store.

<No, I want something that you would wear.>

<The point is to find something you want to wear,> she insisted.

<It would be too obvious if you suddenly started looking completely different.> Aflin sighed. This wasn’t fun anymore. He felt his eyes drift to the nail polish counter.

<When did I get control of the eyes?> he asked.

<Finally,> Daniela said, already walking. <I knew you wouldn’t tell me outright, and there’s only so much mind-reading I can do.>

<You never paint your nails.>

<Honey, you are way more cautious with my body than I am. You’ll keep me from getting them chipped.> She stopped in front of the counter and let Aflin reach for a neon-green bottle.

<Neon is kind of like the spicy for eyes,> Aflin thought absently. <It hurts to look at it, but it hurts so good…>

<Right, we need to pick up hot sauce for the barbecue later.>

Aflin mentally shook their head. <How did Humans evolve with a pain center so close to their pleasure center…>

<Can you imagine how over-cautious we’d be if we didn’t kind of enjoy exertion and pain?> Daniela said. <Anyway, so we’re getting that, but I want you to get one more thing.>

<You really…>

<Ah-ah, no, it’s not like I’m getting you a whole wardrobe. Just something to say that Aflin is in residence today.>

<I’m always in residence.>

<Yeah, but this way it’s like having your name-plate on the office door. A little symbol of you, to show you belong here.>

There was a pause before he answered. <Yeerks aren’t as proprietary as Humans.>

Daniela grinned out loud. <But you still like it.>

<No,>

<You’re as soft as a teddy bear when it comes to->

<No->

<So bright colours, how about the party rack over there?>

Aflin made a small show of grumbling, then quickly perked up when Daniela held up a bright green t-shirt that read “See you later alligator”.

<That is hideous,> he said with the kind of delighted laugh of someone who really thinks it’s wonderful. He held it up her their chest. <You’d never wear this,> he said, half-resigned but with a note of hope.

<Oh my god, if you want to wear it out of the store that bad…> she started to walk to the dressing rooms.

**

They were standing in line to pay when someone tapped their shoulder. “Excuse me,” a girl said, “you still have the tag attached.”

“Oh, I know,” Daniela said, taking over. “I need to wear this out. I’ll just ask the counter lady to cut it off.”

The girl glanced at the graphic tee and grinned. “That’s really cute.”

“Thank you,” Daniela smiled.

The girl sized up her look. “It’s not something I could pull off , though. I guess it’s not about what you wear, it’s how you wear it.”

<Oh, it might also be about “who” you wear,> Aflin thought. Daniela stifled a giggle.

Chapter Text

"So, Tidwell," said Mr. Davies, the soccer coach, from across the teacher's lounge, "what were you thinking of doing for the talent show?"

<Talent show?> Illim glanced quickly through his host's memories. <Oooooooh...>

Mr. Tidwell took a sip of his coffee to pretend he was thinking. Really he was hiding a small smile. Illim seemed very interested.

<We could juggle! Wait no, we have no coordination for that...>

"I didn't know that teachers were also going to be participating this year," Tidwell said.

"Yeah, well there's not a lot of kids signing up this year," Davies said. "Too shy, I guess. We thought that the promise of having a few teachers embarrass themselves on stage would encourage them." Davies nudged his shoulder playfully as he walked by. "I'm sure an English teacher like you has some ridi- I mean entertaining talent." 

"Watch out that he doesn't fill your soccer balls with helium for that comment," said Greta, the secretary.

Davies laughed and shook his head on his way out to his next class.

"Thanks, Greta."

"Oh no worries dear, I've seen many coaches in my day. They all tend to think they're more macho for being 'hard-core', as the kids say these days." She filled her coffee cup and went back to her desk down the hall.

<We need a talent,> Illim said as soon as there was no one else in the room. 

<Calm down,> Tidwell said with a mental smile, <we'll think of something. How about one of your talents?>

<One of mine?>

<After all that time spent in space, you've got a knack for physics that would put any of the science and math teachers here to shame.>

<Oh, that wouldn't be impressive for a show,> Illim said with grand modesty. <How about memorisation? I notice that you enjoy being able to recite whole passages of books to yourself now.> Yeerks were amazing for perfect memory recall.

<We could recite a Shakespearean soliloquy,> Tidwell mused, <I'm not sure that the young crowd would be as impressed though.>

<Maybe if we recited an entire scene from... What's popular these days?> 

<Careful, you're starting to sound like the old man you live in.>

<No, believe me, I'm sounding like a Yeerk who has to keep track of all your species's trends. I honestly have no idea how you stay sane when one week they're obsessed with a furry doll, and the next it's all about a type of shoe? What is even happening.>

<They're finding themselves.>

<You're such a teacher,> Illim said fondly. <But if not recitation, then what were you saying about physics?>

**

 Tidwell had declared in each of his classes that he would have a surprise talent to show, but only if at least 2 kids from each class participated as well. He also pulled out the extra bribe that he wasn't *supposed* to mention: the more kids there were performing,the longer the show would last, and the longer they'd get out of classes.

A few eager hands had shot up at that.

It took a couple of hours to get to Tidwell's bit. (Really, it was Illim's bit.) They'd dressed up specially for it, a spotted red tie and the geekiest tweed jacket they could find. They stepped out onto the stage pulling a rolling blackboard.

"Today, we are going to do a bit of mathemagic," Illim said, waving his hands dramatically. "I need a volunteer from the audience."

A couple hands came up. Tidwell chose one of his favourite students. "You will be using this calculator. Just put in the numbers when I tell you," he said before stepping back in front of the blackboard.

"Now!"Illim raised his hands, going full ham, "I need people to shout out numbers. Pick big numbers! I'll write them down, Jackie here will put them in the calculator," he gestured to the student beside him, "And we're going to see who's faster, the machine... or my mind."

People began shouting random numbers. Illim wrote down the few that he could hear clearly, then turned to Jackie. "You have the same ones?" she glanced at what he'd written and nodded.

"Good! If you add all of these..." He quickly wrote down a 5-digit number, "they come up to this."

Two seconds later Jackie nodded, eyes wide.

"You, in the front row," Illim pointed, "What is the year you were born?"

"Umm, 1984," the kid said.

"Ok, if you add those together, you get 47354," said Illim. Jackie nodded again.

"And if you multiply them..." Jackie raced to type that out, "you get 19,014,080."

The room seemed to hold its breath while Jackie plugged that in. Slowly, she nodded.

The room exploded.

**

<That was amazing!> Illim said as they walked backstage. <I can't wait for next year! I wonder if they'd be ready for a soliloquy then...>

"Oh, Tidwell," vice-principal Chapman jaunted after him, "Good work out there. You really had the kids going."

"Thank you, sir," Illim said, preening at praise from a superior.

"Just try to not be so obvious next time, alright?" Chapman lowered his voice. "You never know when one of those Andalite bandits might be hidding nearby."

Tidwell mentally bit his tongue. "I'll be more careful, sir," he said, knowing full well that some bandits were, in fact, in the audience.

Chapman clapped him on the back as some teachers walked by. "Excellent work! Very impressive performance," he said a little too loudly before walking away.

Tidwell watched him go for a moment more before turning his attention back to Illim. <We should celebrate after, how about we stop at the library and get a book on quantum physics for you?>

Chapter Text

After Marco moved in to Ax's scoop, they ended up spending a lot of time watching TV. This was partly because Ax had a true love for soap operas, and partly because Marco needed to keep himself distracted from the fact that he's faked his death.

So they watched fake people die (and then wake up two episodes later because it was really their evil twin/clone/disguised bystander who'd drank that poison. Plot twist!)

It was a muggy afternoon and they were all hiding out in the shade of the shelter, trading places in front of the only electric fan. <We could make another one,> Ax had insisted, but Marco had waved him off. "It's traditional to share one fan for a family," he'd said. 

Tobias sighed a bird sigh. <This heat wave should pass eventually,> he said. <Even most of the rodents in the area are hiding out underground. It's getting hard to find a decent meal.>

<At least there's still grass,> Ax said. <I can't imagine having to morph Human three times a day to get something to eat.>

"It's not so bad," quipped Marco. "I have to keep it up all the time."

<Your Human humour is still not funny.> Ax flapped his tail. There was a small hand fan tied to the end.

"It must be hot enough to melt your brain. Usually you'd have something more clever to say."

Ax made a face.

<Alright, we're all irritable, but there's no need to snip at each other,> Tobias said.

"Peacekeeper," Marco muttered.

<Why don't we watch some more tv?>

<We have seen them all before. There are only reruns.>

Marco snickered. "It's pretty bad when even the resident alien visitor is complaining about reruns."

<If tv is out, then we should find something else...>

"Look, bird-brain, there's nothing to do except complain. And laze. And..." Marco trailed off as an idea struck him. He glanced around. "The girls won't be here today, right?"

<Would they offer some relief from the heat?> Ax asked.

"No, I just don't want them to see me in my... boxers."

<Those hardly count as boxers, man,> Tobias said, getting him back for the bird-brain comment. <Besides, we don't want to see you in your underwear.>

"Ha, ha. I mean why don't we go swimming? There's got to be a place deep enough."

<Downstream from where I drink, please,> Ax said.

***

"See! This is perfect!" Marco gestured to the refreshing sight in front of them. "Trees for shade over the bank, or to jump off of, and what looks to be deep water." He started stripping down. "Let's go!"

Tobias fluttered over to a shallow where the water just covered a rocky bank. <I'm good here, thanks.>

Ax watched Marco jump in, seemingly carelessly, then resurface a couple of yards away. 

"WHOOO that's cold!" Marco flipped around. "Come on in, Ax-man. It's great."

<When you said swimming...>

"I meant swimming, you know, moving through water without touching the bottom?" Marco's head bobbed just above the surface. "Come on, it's not that cold."

<Andalites do not swim.> Ax said. <And I do not think my shark morph would fit in these waters.>

"Your Human morph would. And what do you mean, Andalites don't swim? You guys don't want to risk getting your fur all wet?"

Ax hesitated. <We are not... buoyant.>

Marco threw his head back and laughed. "You mean you never learned to swim? Man..." He paddled back to the shore. "It's super easy. Babies do it."

<Leave him alone, Marco,> Tobias said. <It's too hot to morph. It's nice enough to cool off our feet.>

"I am going to splash all of you," Marco threatened. "Come on, man, once you figure it out, we can take turns jumping off that tree." Marco pointed at a branch that was conveniently hanging over the deeper part of the water.

<You would want to jump out of a tree?>

***

"CANONBALL!!"

Marco quickly paddled out of the way. Tobias was hit by the splash from his perch on the branch overhead. Ax's head popped out of the water.

"You can have-vvve good ideas sommmetimes, Marco," he said.

Marco grinned. "Oh, I know."

Tobias rolled his eyes. "Don't give him too much credit, Ax-man, his ego is already big enough." He waited until the boys below had cleared away before jumping down with a Whoop!

Chapter Text

<Could I also read about some of your history?> Ax asked one day while the Animorphs were working on their homework. <I know that most of it may be secret, but,>

"Yeah, sure," Marco handed over his textbook before Ax could blink. "Any excuse to not have to read it," he explained.

"And that," said Jake without looking up from his math sheet, "is why you are failing the class."

"Dude, I'm failing the class because there's a war on, in case you missed it." Marco leaned back and propped up his feet. "You know, if we were smart, we'd have one person study for each class, then we all morph each other and pass each class. For each other."

"Don't be insane," Rachel said, flicking a pencil at him. 

"Yeah, we need to learn this stuff," said Cassie.

"Well I meant that we'd obviously get caught when smooth-talker over there blows his cover when he pretends to be me," added Rachel. "But yeah, that too."

<What's wrong, Ax-man?> Tobias asked from the rafters of the barn. Everyone stopped to listen. 

Ax fidgeted under the sudden attention. <Not wrong, exactly. I suppose I would not be allowed to know anyway.>

"Know what?" Jake leaned forward.

<What they were conquering.> Ax tilted the book so they could read the chapter title, Conquerors of History. Most of the chapter was a series of short blurbs about famous warriors like Alexander the Great, Caesar, and Genghis Khan, with a few notables from more recent times. <I thought Humans never left Earth.>

Jake shifted uncomfortably, feeling like this would be a hard conversation. Cassie put a hand on his knee and stepped in.

"We were conquering each other," she said. "Our planet is divided into groups called countries, like we explained already." Ax nodded. "Well, we've been fighting for a long time over how to divide those countries. Sometimes we fought over skin color. Sometimes we fought over religious beliefs, or laws, or ideas. A lot of the time, we look back on the people who led the fights and we think they sound like heroes. Like epic warriors that did something cool."

Ax noted with his stalk eyes that only Rachel was still looking up from the ground at this point. And even then, it was to stare at her best friend in... encouragement? Solidarity? Ax wasn't sure, because he thought he also saw a flash of shame.

"Sometimes the things they did were kind of cool," Cassie continued. "I mean, there are people who had no idea what they'd find if they sailed across the ocean, but they did it anyway. Or Genghis Khan, who traveled over most of Eurasia and fought everyone he came across. They did big, big things." Cassie cleared her throat. "There are books with more details, if you're interested. One of us can take you to a library to get some."

<You aren't proud of this history, though.>

"I'm not," Cassie said, "but that's partly because people with my skin color were one of the most recently 'conquered' groups."

Ax bowed his head slightly, in deference. <Then it has taken great courage to share this with me.>

Cassie smiled. "It's no problem," she said. "You might be able to use some of the battle tactics from our history to help us fight off the Yeerks."

<You would give me access to Human battle tactics?!>

"Dude, you're probably the only one who knows how to use them to our advantage," Marco said, back to a territory of conversation that he could navigate. 

"It's not like he'll find a lot anyway," said Rachel. "The only one I've ever heard of was the Trojan horse thing."

"Everyone knows about the Trojan horse, Rachel, that's like the easiest one," said Marco

"Well what other one can you name, off the top of your head?"

"Obviously, all the tricks you can use in Mortal Kombat..."

The two of them kept going back and forth, Ax already recognizing it as their pattern for releasing tension at each other. He would almost think it was weird if it didn't remind him of the other arisths sparring before and after exams.

"So, Ax," said Jake, "is there anything else you'd like to know about our history?"

Ax thought for a second. <Certainly I would like to understand more about your people,> he said hesitantly, <but I do not know what I am allowed to ask.>

<Anything,> said Tobias. <If we know how to answer it, we will.>

Ax stared at him. <This is very unusual.>

"For you, maybe," Jake grinned, "but we don't see any reason to hold back."

Chapter Text

It was a cool September night. The Sharing had been organising a star-viewing night for weeks, something to grab the attention of more new members. This day, in particular, had been chosen because there was a forecast of a short meteor shower. It was a fairly new concept for the Yeerks, as they had never had the eyes to see one on their own home planet.

To get away from the city's light polution, some of them would be heading off in boats. They claimed that they could see the sky above and under them, making it really feel like they were out in space.

The Yeerk Peace Movement had also decided to make an evening out of it, although they would be up in the mountains, where their conversations could remain secret.

**

"Stop squirming every 5 seconds," Daniela taped Amy's shoulder. "It's distracting for the Human instinct to recognise movement in the dark," added Aflin.

"Right, sorry," Amy's symbiote, Giffi, said. "I keep forgetting these were a prey species."

"Still are, depending on where we are," Joe said over Fiorit's shoulder. They were huddled around on a couple of blankets spread over the grass, some even huddled under their own blankets. The Yeerks would blame their hosts for craving warmth, but everyone there took an instinctive pleasure from feeling cozy in tight spaces.

"Yes, wasn't there a story I'd heard about wolves recently?" someone asked.

"With the Andalite rebels, when isn't there a story about wolves..." Daniela muttered.

Her comment managed to stick the conversation in silence for a moment. Mr. Tidwell picked it back up.

 "It's usually tradition for people to tell scary stories around campfires," he said, "but in this case why not stories from space?"

"Yeah!" said Joe. "Only half of us here have actually been up there."

"We've already heard from our symbiotes, though," said Sam, "and they must all have come from the same place?"

"True enough," said Illim, "but have you ever really seen it?" He pointed up at the sky. "It's the first time I've ever looked up on such a clear night." Everyone tilted their heads back. "That star, the one shinning pale beside the bright blue, that one is the Kandrona, our sun. 35 light-years away, it's shining down daylight on one side of our planet."

"We travelled for nearly 10 cycles to get here," said Fiorit. "Or I did, I think a few of you passed by a few other places first."

"The Hork-Bajir homeworld," nodded Zomni. "They also had a habit of staring up at the stars. At least, sometimes, when the clouds were just right. You know, I got to see our homeworld once, thorugh good eyes," she said. "I was escorting a group of Yeerks back, in a Hork-Bajir guard body of course." Her voice softened. "It was bright green, with patches of red ground and light grey water. The pools we swim in here aren't half as beautiful; these were an incredibly huge network of small ponds, like the jewels on the necklaces they wear here. And they all glittered like jewels under the Kandrona." She reached up, as if to touch her homeworld. "It looked so small then, and it makes me feel so small to look at it now," she said.

Aflin felt a wave of homesickness prick tears in his eyes. It wasn't entirely his emotion; Daniela was empathising with him.

<It's ok, really,> he told her. And it was; he was glad to have traveled so far to find a host species that allowed him to really see his sun. It was as weak and far-away seeming as it had been when he'd been in a Gedd body, but still. He didn't think he'd trade this.

Amy sniffled quietly beside them.

"You know what," Joe said suddenly, "my old buddy Zacharia lent me one of his telescopes for tonight. Why don't we get a better look?"

***

<They're very nice traits, that our two species share,> Illim said to Tidwell while everyone took their turn on the telescope. <We can't help but love and admire where we came from. And we can't help but look at the stars with wonder.>

Tidwell hummed softly in approval. <I used to see the night sky as a sea of black that went on forever. Easy to get lost in. But now that I know where you came from... it all seems to be much closer, like we could just walk down the road to get to that far-distant star, much easier to feel...> He took a faltering step, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. <...to feel like we're all standing on the surface of a giant, spinning spaceship.>

<I guess it's still easy to get lost in it,> Illim joked.

<I hope my species can get into space soon,> Tidwell said. <It really helps create a sense of perspective.>

<If you're trying to say a sense of humility, may I remind you that most of my kind had to travel through space to get here. And we still think we can conquer your species.>

<Maybe they just needed the right eyes while they were traveling,> Tidwell said hopefully.

Illim didn't answer. The meteors had started appearing and the sight of them had captivated his attention completely.

Chapter Text

Giffi met Amy when she had just sent her first poem to a magazine for publishing. It happened to be lucky timing; they didn't start off as friends, and Giffi would never have paid any particular attention to her host's hobbies without a reason. And there was no reason to worry that she would seem odd; Amy lived alone and didn't participate in much after her work hours. She'd barely even joined the Sharing.

Amy had been subdued, deciding that she didn't need or want to deal with an alien in her head.

But on a sunny Tuesday, Giffi had been iddly looking through the last week's mail and come across something that looked important. It had a colourful stamp on it, and the adress was hand-written. Very different from the usual "Dear Occupant" things.

She tore it open and scanned through the letter, which announced "Congratulations! Your work has been accepted..."

Giffi felt her host's consciousness stir.

She crumpled up the letter and made to toss it, but that was when Amy showed an uncharacteristic burst of energy.

"Please," she'd asked, "please let me read the whole thing."

**

Orra belonged to a singing host. One day she sat down in a park and started to belt out an easy tune; felt the vocal chords that weren't hers stretch, felt the chest she'd stolen contract with both her emptying lungs and the emotion she felt from the words she sung.

Yeerks could sing, of course. It was part of how they communicated with each other; they'd vibrate at matching frequencies, reach out and literally touch their neighbours with sound.

But this felt different. This felt like reaching into depths that couldn't exist in a creature so small, and pushing out her existence far beyond the reach of her natural body.

"Fly me to the moon," she sang with her whole heart, "and let me play among the stars..."

Her host added emotion to the next lines, "Let me know what spring is like ooonn, Jupiter and Mars."

That was when Orra began to recommend to other Controllers that they sing with their host as a way of creating a connection with them. Maybe not an emotional one, but certainly something binding.

**

Illim had loved stories his whole life. The fact that Tidwell was an English teacher was a chance to learn entirely new stories, as well as their background information. Tidwell ended up learning a lot as well, since the things that interested Illim the most were how all the people were connected, by family or by mentorship or by any number of ways.

"All Yeerks know how we're connected," Illim had explained one day. "You call me Illim, but that is why I call you Tidwell; we are both referring to the other's family name."

"It feels demeaning to call you by a number," Tidwell had protested.

"I'm not complaining. But you used to use numbers a lot, to refer to someone, right?" Illim reached for a copy of Shakespeare's works. "Kings Henry IV, V, VI..."

"The monarchy used to be less clever about names. Tradition, I suppose."

"If it's not broke, don't fix it, I suppose your kind would say?" Illim asked with a smile. "And that seems to hold true with how you repeat history, as well."

"Ah, well, Human nature doesn't change much over the years."

"It's fascinating how it can connect with Yeerk events, as well," said Illim, riffling through the pages. "Further proof that we aren't so different."

"Oh?"

Illim stopped at a page and read aloud, "Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look: He thinks too much: such men are dangerous."

Tidwell mentally nodded. Yes, that was the Visser.

"And it did take a while to really understand your language, but I quite like 'Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, But in ourselves, that we are underlings.'"

Tidwell shook his head. "A nice sentiment, but one that's hard to always make real."

"Dreams make fools of us all, but we must keep dreaming," Illim said.

Chapter Text

Gafinilan and Mertil were completely out of their depths. They had luckily crashed in a remote wooded area, and though they had quickly retreated from the point of impact with as much tech as they could, no one had yet approached their downed ship. It took them a few weeks to heal completely, and by then they had decided it would be worth the risk to wander into alien territory.

Mertil stayed behind and hid with the ship while Gafinilan took off in a small bird morph. He would later know to call these robins.

The first thing to do would be to spy on human conversations to get a sense of what was happening. Maybe he would get lucky and come across a group of controllers discussing plots so he could know how to avoid them.

Gafinilan had trained to analyse battle tactics, including finding key points in the enemie's defenses, and first looked for places where a lot of people converged. 

The most obvious place in the afternoon was the mall.

**

"Ugh, darn, I forgot I still have to do a history report for tomorrow."

"Just copy it from a book, man."

"I still need to hit up the library though."

His friends laughed. "You can never finish anything on time," said one of them.

"I'll go with you to help," said another. "I still have to start the science essay."

Gafinilan followed them. This library seemed to be a repository for information, and even if it was highly defended he would need to know where it was...

As it turned out, one of the windows was left open. Clearly an oversight.

Then there was practically no one, only these long rows of... what were these... there were labels on them...

Gafinilan quickly deduced that they somehow contained their specified knowledge, and marveled at how they were so completely out in the open. Was no one protecting these?

He flitted around in his morph, looking for a place to hide before his time ran out. After a few minutes he decided that there was no surveillance, and certainly no one was passing by the section way in the back pertaining to... he looked at a few titles, "firefighting and medical protocols". Maybe this was already common knowledge.

He had barely demorphed when he heard someone approach. He kept himself hidden and, as they turned the corner to nearly see him, lashed out with his tail. A man with glasses slumped to the floor, knocked out. The flat items he had been carrying fell to the ground. 

Gafinilan pulled him further behind his hiding place and had a small moment of panic. Here was a good morph to use, certainly, but would anyone recognise a look-alike?

He decided to risk it, and, once acquired, he morphed back to a robin and flew back where he came.

**

It took a few tries, but eventually he learned that clothing was generally non-optional, and that even then they had to be a certain style in order to not draw attention. The flat items with titles turned out to be books, and, according to one of the Humans at the entrance of the library, a person could learn nearly anything if they knew how to find the right book.

"We have quite the large collection," the older woman said cheerfully. "I can understand that it may seem intimidating, but if you have any questions, you can ask one of us, or the index cards for reference are over there. Were you looking for anything in particular?"

Gafinilan  hesitated. Could it be that easy?

"I am trying to... acclimate," he said. 

"Oh, you're new in town, aren't you?" the librarian said without a flicker in her smile. "We have a few resources, let me see..." She went around her counter and handed him a pamphlet with a map of the area, a short list of local businesses, and when he kept asking questions she spent the next ten minutes helping him find all sorts of things.

 Literally none of his questions made her suspicious.

"Where would I find a place to keep a large... vehicle?"

"There's a rentable storage space, I believe, just off the highway. You can't miss it, it's a large yard of low buildings with orange garage doors. Did you come here in an RV?"

He nodded, feeling that was the safer response. She went on a tangent about her husband's camper van for a while.

"Are there any private parks in the area?"

"Is this all you have for math and physics books?"

"What about anything on a space research program?"

"Where would you recommend for chemicals specific to gardening?"

That last one had stopped her. "What an odd way to ask, you mean fertiliser?"

He had nodded again, hoping she would keep tangentially adding information.

"Well, there is a gardening place down the road, they have lovely petunias and marigolds. Mostly flowers, they'd be lovely in a new garden. Did you move somewhere with a yard?"

"Ah," he hesitated, "not yet."

"Oh, well there's lots of ways to fit a garden into an apartment," she said. "But if you haven't decided on a place to live yet, I can show you some listings for houses. We keep a monthly magazine of those on the counter, over here." She pointed. "Oh, but maybe I should get you a bag for all that."

Gafinilan was already amazed that his arms had managed to keep hold of so many books. "Ah, yes please," he said, shifting the stack that nearly reached his chin.

"Now, all I need to check you out is an address for your library card."

He blanched. "A, uh, address?" He had no idea how to cover for that. Of course there would be a final impossible hurdle. He glanced at the magazine of dwellings and wondered how quickly he could acquire one. Maybe he could stall her for a minute while he... signed up for a house? Was that how it worked?

But the librarian solved it all in an instant, waving off his concerns. "Don't worry, dear," she said with a conspiratorial wink, "I've been a newcomer before. And forget about what I said before about the storage unit, if you still need a place to park your RV for the night," she lowered her voice, "there's a McDonald's parking lot that turns a blind eye to customers who don't buy anything, just down the road and to the left." Then she leaned down to pull a slip of paper out of her desk. "As for the address," she added, "I've seen you visit here a few times already. How about I just mark it down as here, and then," she pulled out a plastic card, "you just need to sign this with your name and everything is all good."

Gafinilan stared down at the card. She would... just believe him?

What name would sound Human enough?

He discreetly glanced at the book titles she was organising into a bag. Henry... McClellan. That seemed reasonable.

She stamped each of them with a date and handed them back to him before glancing down at his card. "Oh, Henry," she said, "Nice to meet you. These are all due to be returned in three weeks. Do you think you can read that fast?" She grinned.

"I'll read as fast as I can," he answered. "I've got a lot of catching up to do."

Chapter Text

It had started when Rachel invited them to a talent show at the gym. "My gymnastics team will be doing a demo," she said, "and it's gonna be pretty cool."

"Girls in tight costumes? Count me in," Marco said gleefully.

"Everyone except Marco is invited," she said with a smirk.

"You're just jealous cause I'll get all their phone numbers," he made a face at her.

"I already have everyone's contacts, Marco dear," she said coyly. "But aside from that, I thought it would be a good way to get Ax to see some more of Human culture. There's going to be dancers and all kinds of sports stuff."

<I would very much like to see how your species dances on only two legs,> Ax said. <It seems to me that there would be a lot of falling.>

"Believe me, Ax, as soon as the girls see me, they'll be falling all over the place." Marco struck a dashing pose.

"The only falling they'll be doing is falling over themselves to get away from you." Rachel gave him a swat.

"Do you dance, Ax?" Cassie asked to change the subject.

<Hey, yeah, Ax-man, were there ever any parties with dancing on your home planet?> Tobias chimed in.

Ax shifted. <Well, there was a popular form among the arisths, but I have not danced it in a long time and I don't have the music that goes with it.>

"Maybe some day we'll go to a talent show on your planet to see it," Cassie said brightly.

Ax nodded. <That would be nice some day.>

**

The gym echoed back the voices of the crowd and the squeaks of sneakers on the wood floors. Gym mats were laid out to the side to be quickly dragged to the center when it would be the gymnasts' turn. 

The kids spread out, Tobias sitting in a back corner so he wouldn't be noticed, Cassie sitting towards the front. Jake and Marco guided Ax towards a side seat. 

"You get one bag of popcorn, and that's it," Jake reminded him. 

"Understood. I will-ill be on my beeest behaviour. Or."

With the tweet of a whistle, the show began. First up were some kids on BMX bikes, zipping around on a half-pipe platform and over stacked boxes.

"Daaaaamn," Marco breathed, "I need one of those."

After the skateboarders, it was the younger gymnastic team. Then hockey players doing trick shots. 

And then they pulled out a wooden board, and out came a small group of tap dancers.

Ax had been focused on licking the butter and salt from the popcorn bag when he heard them. His head shot up.

"Besira hin!" he said, too loudly. Marco clamped a hand on his shoulder to keep him from jumping up. 

"Is there danger?" he asked in a low voice.

Ax shook his head, still staring at the tap dancers. Jake and Marco relaxed from their ready position. "It is the name of that dance. Ants."

Jake shot him a look. "You have a dance like that?"

Marco was grinning. "Ax-man," he said, practically vibrating from the previous adrenaline rush and the new promise of entertainment, "do you know how to tap dance?"

**

They gathered in Cassie's barn, where the wood floors were solid enough to really hear the clip-clops of Ax's hooves. Cassie had cleared out the straw from a space for him. Rachel had brought a boom box with a cassette of what Ax had finally deemed acceptable songs; he would dance to "Don't Rain on my Parade" by Barbara Streisand.

"This is amazing," Marco snickered gleefully. "I wish I had a camera."

Ax definitely took the spotlight, even as Rachel tried to follow some of his moves in her own way; with half as many limbs, it turned out to be a little difficult. His feet were moving so fast they practically blurred together. That, mixed with tail-blade swishes, made the whole performance mesmerising.

Even Marco was speechless by the end. 

They all clapped as Ax looked bemused. 

"...I wish I had a camera," Marco muttered.

Chapter Text

<I really wish you would stop doing this,> Aflin said to his host, Daniela.

<It's harmless,> she thought back to him. <We're only following him until we get an idea of what his daily life is, and then we can relay that information to the Bandalites.>

<I have never enjoyed your species' wordplay,> he grumbled. <Bandalites. What nonsense. It only sounds funny out loud.>

<Oh quit mopping, you earless nerd,> Daniela said. <And stop distracting me.>

<He's still eating, we can take this moment to discuss your very unnatural enjoyment of stalking.>

<You could have stayed in the Pool if you were going to be this pissy.>

<Forgive me, but being in a predator's head while they're experiencing glee at the thought of following someone around... Daniela, I can see your thoughts, the next step in this sequence of instincts is you jumping out, taking him down while he's surprised, and then eating him alive.>

<I'm saving myself for marriage!> Daniela said with mock offense.

<...I never want that mental image in my head again.>

<Noooo, don't call attention to it, now I'm picturing it too!>

<Would you ever date an Andalite, though?>

<Stooooooop!!>

<Oh, wait, the Visser is on the move.>

Daniela tried to refocus her thoughts to the task at hand. <Oh my god, Aflin, you are literally the worst date ever,> she said as she crept around the corner to follow him.

<You would date a Yeerk?> he asked.

Daniela paused; trying to focus on both the Visser and Aflin was distracting. <I'd date you,> she said. 

Aflin knew she was telling the truth. And in her very typical way, she had said it like it would be obvious. Like he was naturally so important to her that it was never a question in her mind.

<Oh would you quit being sappy, we're on a mission,> Daniela said, interrupting his thoughts.

<We should go out on a date,> Aflin said suddenly.

<Aflin I swear to God, if you get me killed because you were being adorable when I needed to focus...>

<You do think I'm adorable though,> Aflin insisted. <You'd never said as much before.>

<It never came up before, ohmygod, look, you infuriating man,>

<Not a man.>

<Iwillkillyou, ohmygod, hold on to these thoughts, we're coming back to them, the Visser is...> she glanced around and noticed they were alone in the forest.

<Gone,> Aflin deadpanned.

<Oh you better hope he's gone, because if he's circling around us to snap our necks...>

They took five minutes to look around and be sure they were safely alone. Even then, they only breathed a sigh of relief when they were back in the city center.

<So,> Aflin said. <Adorable, was it?>

<When did you get a sense of sass?> Daniela asked with a small smirk.

<From you, clearly. I believe that's common with Human couples. They begin to act like each other after a while.>

<we're not a couple,> Daniela corrected. <Because we're always together.>

<Are you trying to say we're already one?> Aflin said smugly.

Daniela turned bright red on the street. <You are awful today.>

<Come on, let me take you on a coffee date. My treat.>

<It's still my money.>

<But I'll be the one using the hand to pay. And I'll make sure they add an extra shot of vanilla, the way you like it.>

Daniela tried not to smile too openly on their way to the coffee shop.

Chapter Text

"I will not be bringing... 'lunches to work'," Gafinilan grumped as Daniela raced around. She had found him a nice outfit, even insisted that he should wear fake glasses because "he just seemed the type"... but he was fighting her on one very important detail.

"Everyone brings lunch," she insisted. "It's an excuse to socialise..."

"I have no wish to interact with potential Controllers," he said.

"Ouch, ignoring that. It will make you seem normal..."

"You already told me that professors are notoriously eccentric," he said, turning her own logic against her.

She gritted her teeth and stared at him defiantly. "You'll get hungry," she said.

"I'll survive."

Daniela threw up her hands. "Fine! You'll survive. But I can't believe you don't want any food. Does the idea of putting something in your face gross you out that much?" she demanded.

<It is rather... unsettling,> Myrtil said. <But Gafinilan did try it at one point. He said it was unnecessary.>

Daniela squinted. "You've tried food."

"Why do you Humans insist on repeating things... Yes, I've tried Earthling food," Gafinilan said. "It was... boring and unsatisfying."

"Now, see, what I'm hearing," Daniela said like she was explaining something to a 5-year-old, "is that you didn't try real food."

"It was... It was in a grocery store, where you keep Human foods," Gafinilan insisted. "I even made sure to remove the packaging first. And it was something I've heard about on your television shows, I certainly ate food."

"Hmm, I'm not convinced," Daniela frowned. "What was it?"

"Spaghetti, I even have some left," he gestured to the kitchen. "You can see for yourself."

She opened the pantry and found nothing. "In the drawer," Gafinilan clarified. "It was a nice size for it."

Daniela bit her lip to keep from laughing that he'd put a pack of spaghetti in what should have been a junk drawer. But she pulled it out and noticed it was almost completely full.

"You ate this," she said.

Gafinilan nodded.

She pulled out a noodle. "You ate," she pressed, "this."

If Andalites weren't yet prone to eyerolls, Gafinilan was going to spontaneously develop the habit. "Yes, again, yes."

"Uncooked?" she guessed.

"What?"

"Did you cook these?"

"You need to cook them?" Gafinilan paused. "In multiples?"

"Oh my god..." Daniela turned back to the kitchen and dug around for a pot. "'I hate Human food, it's so bland, so boring,'" she mimicked in a high-pitched voice as she turned on the stove. She turned back to Gafinilan and turned over the spaghetti packaging. 

"See this?" she pointed.

"Ehm..." Gaafinilan peered closely, but Myrtil saw it first and started to laugh. 

"Cooking instructions," Daniela began to read out loud. "Place one half-inch handful of noodles per person in a pot of boiling water. Simmer until soft."

Gafinilan pouted. "Well I hope you feel satisfied at outsmarting me."

"HA!" Daniela grinned. "Like outsmarting an infant. 'I don't like colours, all I ever see is black,' said the man who never opens his eyes." Daniela looked through the rest of the kitchen before giving up. "I'll be right back after I get a few ingredients. Don't let the noodles boil too long."

***

"Alright," said Daniela, "first you try a plain noodle." She pulled one out with her fingers and held it out to him. He took it grudgingly. 

"It wiggles like it's alive," he said.

"I've seen you step on an actual worm and, presumably, absorb it," Daniela said. "Shut up and put the noodle in your mouth."

He frowned at her but opened his mouth. His chewing was thoughtful and surprised. 

"Huh," he said.

"Yes, exactly. Now we add a simple tomato sauce..." she made up a plate.

"Huh."

"And then add some herbs. I like oregano best, but you can experiment a little."

He was already reaching for the herb packets she was holding out.

She let him get halfway through his plate, which he devoured too fast to speak, before she shook a bottle of parmesan in front of him. 

"If you still think it's bland, we can add some cheese."

The brand-new bottle of parmesan was empty a half-hour later.

Gafinilan sat back like he was in a food coma. Daniela had a self-satisfied smirk on her face.

"So. Do you think you'd like food on occasion?" she asked innocently.

Gafinilan nodded.

Chapter Text

Mertil was home alone. Again. He hadn't left the house even once, and had to rely on the Human Controllers for social contact and assistance when Gafinilan was gone to the university.

He let his head fall into his hands. When had it come to this? This was the Elimist's idea of a joke, wasn't it, some form of ironic retribution for being so harsh on the arisths back home. 

If he had known he'd become friends with Yeerks, he would have stayed home the day they'd all shipped out to Earth. Army regulations be damned, he would have gone AWOL if needed. Let someone else deal with all this.

He huffed and lifted his head again. The isolation was starting to get to him. He shook his head; what he needed was a distraction.

The Controllers regularly brought cultural items from their planet... awful boring things, by Mertil's standards. What was the use of a puzzle that could be solved in five minutes?

He sorted through the box of smaller boxes (video tapes, they'd called them) and picked one that didn't look like a romance. (That one Human, what was her name, Daniela, she must be trying to flirt with him. Lately her eyes were distant and she kept smiling, and worse, she kept bringing him romance novels and movies. Elimist above. As if he needed more reasons to be disgusted with their kind.)

The case said that the movie was called Excalibur. Hmm, it seemed that was the name of the main character's weapon. How odd. 

He popped in the movie and waited.

**

A little over two hours later, he was pacing back and forth, hoping that one of the Humans would visit soon so he could ask them about swords. He felt the stump of his tail swish absently behind him, just itching to feel a blade under his control again. 

As soon as he heard a knock at the door, he nearly caught his legs on the table legs as he turned quickly to open it.

"Hiya!" Daniela greeted him cheerfully. 

Mertil held back from groaning and welcomed her inside. 

It took him five minutes and 36 seconds before he could naturally bring up the topic. 

<Speaking of warriors, I was wondering if there were any weapons makers around.>

"Weapon makers?" Daniela stared at him, confused.

<A craftsman. Someone who designs and crafts weapons,> Mertil tried to clarify without being too obvious.

Daniela seemed to understand. Her eyes darted behind him before looking back at his face. "Oh, like swords?"

<Yes. I had heard they were somewhat efficient at cutting. I might like to see for myself if they compare to rudimentary tail blades.>

Daniela bit back a smirk, but he saw the amusement in her eyes. All the humans got that look when he said something dismissive about them. It was almost as if they felt his superiority was undeserved. 

Ridiculous.

"I could find you a sword," she said after a moment. "It might take me a while, though. They're not exactly everyday things. Is there a style you would like?"

<What styles are there?>

**

A standard European sword, like the ones in the movie, weigh about 3 pounds. Which is perfectly within the bounds of what an average Andalite can lift with ease.

The problem was that swinging it with any accuracy took a whole set of muscles Mertil had never properly developed. Even more unfortunate was the fact that Andalites, unlike Humans, did not have 360-degree rotating shoulder sockets. He couldn't rely on a full swing to add momentum to his attack.

<Hu-UUG!> Mertil grunted as he tried to slash through a target he'd set up in the backyard. The wooden stump barely had an inch-long scratch.

This was much, much harder than using his tail. Andalite children use their tail to make much larger slashes than this. Mertil made a few more frantic attacks, trying to cut the log in half, like it should be by now. He'd been practicing for two weeks now. There should be more progress to show for it!

It was at that point that Joe, one of the rare Humans who was discreet enough to almost sneak up on him, cleared his throat.

"If I could offer a suggestion?" he asked from the patio door, seemingly having been there longer than a few seconds. Mertil refused to acknowledge him, in order to pretend that he'd known he was there the whole time.

"You don't have to use a tool the same way a Human would," Joe continued. "If your arms don't have the muscles..."

<I know how to train, thank you,> Mertil interrupted, his tone icy.

Joe continued as if he hadn't spoken. "...then why not use your tail?"

Mertil spun towards him, all eyes glaring. <Do you think you are funny?>

Joe held up his hands in surrender. "I didn't mean to offend. I meant..."

<Go away,> Mertil snarled.

"Do you know what a prosthetic is?" Joe tried.

Mertil paused. He'd seen humans with artificial body parts, on tv. Pirates, villains with peg legs. Monsters with claws for hands.

But then there were those science-fiction series with bionic eyes and weapons attached in the place of limbs that had been lost.

<... I will need you to explain yourself,> Mertil said, hesitating to give him the benefit of the doubt.

Joe lowered his hands slowly. "I have a friend who works in engineering..."

***

There are a particular breed of Humans, Mertil decided, who approach the unknown with feral delight. There were Andalites like that, too, and they were also relegated to the fringe of society. He wondered if that was because their intensity scared their peers, or if they needed that much space to think up so many insane ideas.

When he was introduced to Joe's friend who works in engineering (after the Controllers checked that they weren't infested with a patriotic Yeerk) the man was equal parts terrifying and impressive.

Tim, who was a self-described "part-time engineer and a full-time sci-fi geek", took one look at Mertil and exploded with questions. 

"Oh my god, you're like a centaur! Settle a bet for me, are your front legs significantly stronger than your back legs? How do you eat? Osmosis? Oh that must mean the energy transfer is so efficient! Why do you look like you have a jaw if you have no mouth? Can I see the mobility of your arms?"

Joe, thankfully, directed him back to task. "A prosthesis, Tim."

"Oh, yes! Yes, yes, Joe told me he had a once-in-a-lifetime project for me and, look at this, he was right! So you would like a tail that can behave like a sword? I may have a few ideas, off the top of my head..."

***

It took a few months. And a lot of trial and error. Mertil may have stomped on Tim's feet once of thrice when the Human got too annoying. But they finally settled on a model where individual segments collapsed in on each other to settle like a scorpion's tail over Mertil's back. When he jerked his tail into motion, the segments extended, allowing a blade at the end to cut where directed.

Learning to direct it also took months, and both Mertil and Tim were equally gleeful when Mertil finally struck down a target in one try.

"We did it!" Tim screeched. "My biggest success!" He looked like he was about to explode with joy and pride.

Mertil shook his head fondly. Leave it to a Human to do him such a huge, selfless favour, and still feel like the biggest benefactor was Tim himself.

Mertil swished his tail around some more. It wasn't exactly like his old tail. Actually it wasn't at all like his old tail. But it still worked on the same principle and behaved how he wanted it to. 

He could still be a proud Andalite warrior.

Chapter Text

"I don't understand why this has to be so hard," Daniela groused. "We're explaining ourselves perfectly, and yet most of the Yeerks just aren't getting it. What's so wrong about becoming friends with Andalites?"

Sam shrugged. "We can't just expect them to change their minds overnight," she said. "And just because they can see our perspective, doesn't mean they understand it."

Daniela made a face. "Whadya mean, they can't understand it? If we can make them see what we see, it's super clear!"

Amy looked pensive for a moment before reaching for a pen and paper and sitting across the table from Daniela. "It's like this," she said, quickly sketching out some lines. "If I asked you if you could tell what this is, could you?"

Daniela tried to twist her head. "Well, it's upside down right now, right?"

"Exactly. So if I turn it, you'll see it from my perspective. Can you tell what it is now?"

"...No."

"So showing you something from my perspective isn't enough for you to get it. So how about if I..." She sketched out a stick-figure drawing of a human beside the first stick figure sketch.

"It's a stick-figure Andalite!" Daniela said, her face lighting up in understanding.

 "So sometimes, we need to add context. I haven't changed the original message, but because I added a detail that you're familiar with, it comes through clearer now."

"So..." Sam said pensively, "we need to add context. Something everyone is familiar with, that will make our message click in their heads."

Amy nodded. "We need to know what kind of things are familiar to Yeerks and create something from that."

Chapter Text

"Why aren't you freaking out more about the dead Yeerks?" Daniela blurted out one day. "I mean, somehow the Andalite bandits are holding off on killing human controllers, but they're *really* not holding back when it comes to Yeerks. Shouldn't we be, I don't know, a little more concerned?"

Mr Tidwell hummed thoughtfully. He'd already had this conversation with Illim, somewhat. It was still difficult for him to wrap his head around the cultural differences.

"It's not a cultural difference," Illim said out loud. "It's a biological one. It's the kind of thing that would make you humans call us evil, because we don't have enough of a strong emotional attachment to any one Yeerk to mourn their death."

"What, you like your hosts better?" Daniela huffed, already set to be defensive. Her Yeerk, Aflin, tried to shush her and joined Ilim in his explanation. 

"We aren't individuals, not like you are," he said. "My real name isn't Aflin, just like Ilim isn't Ilim. Those are our "family" names. We are actually designated by a number, remember? Like when Amy tried to create a code that matched a number to a letter of your alphabet to create something more "human"."

"Yeah but we can't call you by a number..." Daniela pouted.

"We are each, just a number," Illim said. "Just one of several thousand siblings born from the same set of three or more adults. Our parents join in osmosis, blending together, then split at a cellular level, creating baby Yeerks that are smaller than tadpoles. Each newborn holds a piece of their parents' memories. Then as we grow, we share those memories around until we all practically have the same life. It's only the ones who take on hosts who can add to the collective memories."

"And actually, we're isolating ourselves by keeping your secrets," Aflin stated. "Because that's also part of the point of going back to he pool every three days. We don't need to spend hours in here; we only ever do because we're sharing our new life experience."

"And more and more of the Yeerks in the Skows pool are leaving early," Ilim added. "We aren't used to having so much new information to share. It's unusual, in our history, for one pool to have so many Yeerks with hosts. It gets... Overwhelming."

Aflin nodded, almost wincing Daniela's face. "Very few of us are from the same homepool. There's only five others from the Aflin pool, for example. We're not only sharing what happens with our hosts, but also our history from our homepools." 

"It's all this traveling," Illim said mournfully. "We couldn't carry entire homepools on our ships, so we sent a few parent-ready Yeerks instead. They became thousands of new, host-ready adults once we arrived on Earth."

"I still don't get it," Daniela said. "Why does that stop you from caring about your brothers and sisters?"

"Because we aren't meant to be individuals," Illim said. "A pool of nine thousand has nine thousand copies of the same information, the same ressources, the same experience. Everything is meant to be shared. If a thousand die, there are still eight thousand left to carry what is needed to the next generation.

"It's different here, of course," Ilim continued. "We aren't sharing as much as we're supposed to. We don't have the time. There's too much."

"Last week, there was a big hubbub with the Taxxon controllers," Aflin said with a shudder. "We had six hundred perspectives on the attack and the rampage their hosts went on. And that was just from he ones who were directly involved. The Hork-Bajir controllers tried to add their two cents as well, so there was no way for anyone else to get a word in."

"It's gotten so that half of the regular visitors to the Skows pool could be completely silent every time they're swimming through, and no one would notice," Illim said. "It's how we've managed to pass under the radar, when we don't give up every detail of your lives."

Daniela shuddered. "So the only reason we haven't been found out yet... Is because the amount of hosts you have literally muddies the water?"

Mr Tidwell tried not to give her a look for the ridiculous pun.

Aflin smiled. "Yes. So now you know: we aren't meant to care as much about individuality. We aren't supposed to be separated enough from our siblings to feel their absence when they die."

"So... This is a different kind of tragedy for you," Daniela mused. "You each carry a whole life, and you'll maybe never be able to share it. So if you die, all of that dies with you. It can't be carried on."

"...yes," Illim said softly. "The Yeerk peace movement will not be carried on through our homepool's legacy. Not if we want to keep you safe. Our deaths will be truly a loss, and it will be a loss because no one will know that it is being lost in the first place."

"I'll know," Daniela said softly. "I'll remember Aflin."

Illim gave a small smile. "Maybe some day you can pass on our knowledge for us. Let us continue to live on."

Chapter Text

"Myrtle! You would not believe how awful the Yeerk pool was today!" Daniela groaned out instead of saying hello. "I need to hear something kind because I am having an awful day."

"Hi, Myrtle," Amy said.

<Hello, Amy,> Myrtle answered. <Is Daniela being dramatic again?>

"Daniela is right here," she grumbled, stomping over to the kitchen. 

Amy nodded. "You're getting better at understanding Human social cues."

Myrtle kept an eye on Daniela over his shoulder. <It becomes easier with practice, as she insists on testing me.>

"Please say something nice to me," Daniela pleaded. "I'm at the end of my rope with this stupid war."

Amy tilted her head in acknowledgement. "It was pretty rough today. There was a lot of new hosts, and it's always worst on the first day."

<What would you suggest I say, exactly?> 

"I don't know, something nice, compliment my hair, tell me I'm doing my best, which I am..."

<Your hair is very shiny.>

"Perfect, thank you, see how easy that can be?" Daniela aimed her comment at Amy, who just stared back at her with a raised eyebrow. 

"I said something nice earlier," Amy defended.

"You said something honest, which is not the same thing," Daniela huffed, dragging out cookies from the pantry. "Myrtle understands me, at least. I do take good care of my hair," she held up a few strands, "and it's a goddamn miracle that I haven't stressed myself into split ends and greys yet."

<It is very pretty, even by Andalite standards,> Myrtle said. <May I touch it?>

"Yeah sure. See this," Daniela insisted as Myrtle held a strand, "is what happens when you regularly use oils and conditioner. Because some of us have standards."

<Gafinilan is much the same with his ekina oils,> Myrtle said as he ran a hand over her head. <Very smooth.>

Daniela had closed her eyes at that point. "You can just keep doing that, hon," she said softly, cookies left on the counter. 

Amy watched them for a few minutes as Myrtle smoothed out flyaway hairs and began twisting Daniela's hair into patterns. Amy eventually shook her head with a smile. 

"You want to hear something funny? Here on earth we have a species we keep as a pet, called a cat. It's a very small furry creature, quiet and self-possessed. They're often seen as snobby because they interact with even the humans they live with only on their terms. And they're arrogant. They don't seem to understand that we look after them, because they'll bring us smaller creatures that they hunt, even though we're the ones feeding them. They think they're caretakers, so they'll groom anyone they think needs their help.

"There's another species we keep as pets, called rabbits. They're quiet animals too, but a little more energetic and reliant on us to feed them, because they'll eat anything but that makes it dangerous to leave them alone. They like to be catered to.

When rabbits and cats are kept together, the cats often end up grooming the rabbits. And both are happy this way, because to the rabbit, that places them above the cat in the social hierarchy, and to the cat, they're the mothering adult in the relationship."

Daniela finally looked up. "I'm not sure why that's meant to be funny."

Myrtle had only paused briefly before continuing his styling. 

Amy shrugged. "No reason."

Chapter Text

Deep underground, where the doggy paradise sprawled out beyond the reaches of the Yeerk pool, under a large tree, there was a small shrine. The Chee treated it like a family photo wall; though they had perfect memories, they liked to gaze at the people and accomplishments they cared about, just like their creators. 

The images and videos cycled through a randomised pattern. Now, a video of when a Chee had pet the first dog. A moment later, a time they saved a Human life.

Erek stared and reminisced on the best moments of their lives since landing on Earth. There was a lot to be proud of here. 

Then the photo shifted to one of the original Pemalite creators, all standing together around one of the earliest Chee, before they'd created hologram skins. They were smiling proudly at the camera. 

Erek tensed. The Pemalites were always in the back of his mind; it was impossible for him to forget anything, after all. But he had been avoiding addressing thoughts of them directly since the Yeerks had invaded. 

"Why..." He muttered, pausing the image. 

It was something all he Chee had regretted, after the death of their Homeworld. Why had they been programmed to be nonviolent? They could have ended the invasion here already. And more importantly, they could have saved their world. 

It was a grating thought. Why had the Pemalites refused to fight, or even let the Chee fight for them, at the cost of their own lives?

Abruptly, Erek turned away and fled to a quiet corner. He wanted to have this conversation, once and for all. He wanted to know. 

"Why did you limit us?" He asked the computer in front of him. 

It hummed to life, ancient as it was, and a beam of light shot out, projecting an image of a Pemalite elder. They tilted their head at him.

"We did not limit you," they said. "We made you to be perfect."

"Perfection would have allowed us to save you," Erek insisted. 

"It was our time," said the elder gently. "We had commit atrocities of our own, and we would not commit them again, not even to save ourselves."

"But... You'd been perfect," Erek said. "The only historical records we have of you..."

The elder shook his head. "You'll never know what we kept out of your files. How much it took to make sure you could be truly nonviolent. We were no saints and we wanted our children to be different. You were our greatest success; we finally had a descendant who would never know a violent impulse, never know a capacity for creative cruelty and what that costs a person's soul. You are, truly, everything good about us."

"You could tell me now, what it is you wanted to keep from us," Erek pressed.

The elder shook his head. "I am not programmed with those memories either. I only know we did this for you, because it is what we always wanted for ourselves. To never have a need to know violence and it's cost. As long as you never encounter another aggressor, you will never need to know."

"The humans here are occasionally violent," Erek said. "But they are well-meaning."

"You cannot control the violent impulses of another. It is good that they don't attack you directly. You do well to stay out of their way until they've evolved past violence."

"Is it a given, that all organic beings evolve past a need for aggression?" 

"Not in our experience. Nature does not care about morals, only survival. The only thing you can do is push mutual aid as a survival tactic."

"Easy enough," Erek mussed. "But is that moral, to guide them so?"

"Is it moral to allow them to go down a path that could lead to destruction of another race?"

Erek nodded. "Wise as always, forefather."